Thirteen Days Page #26

THE PRESIDENT:

Bobby. You know Dobrynin best.

Bobby nods, taking up the gauntlet.

THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)

Ted, you get working on the draft.

Sorensen and Bobby rise as one, head for the doors.

THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)

And make sure he knows we have to have

an answer tomorrow.

(beat, final)

Because on Monday we begin military

action against Cuba.

Bobby and Kenny exchange a look.

EXT. WEST WING DRIVEWAY - NIGHT

A LONG SHOT:
Bobby emerges from the West Wing in his

overcoat, briefcase in hand. He pauses, tiny, alone. The

West Wing - and all its imposing spotlit power behind him -

reduced to this insignificant man on his eleventh-hour

mission.

And then, out of the shadows, in the f.g., steps Kenny in his

own coat, his breath frosting in the late-night air. Bobby

sees him, and knows he is not so alone anymore.

ON THE DRIVEWAY:

They meet in front of the limo. Bobby stops, shuffles his

things, awkward.

BOBBY:

What do you want? A good-bye kiss?

Kenny opens the driver's side door. The Secret Service LIMO

DRIVER peers out.

LIMO DRIVER:

Hey, Kenny.

KENNY:

Hey, Joe. Listen, I'll take care of

him. Go ahead in, grab some coffee.

We'll be back pretty quick.

LIMO DRIVER:

You sure?

Kenny's nod and look -- there's no arguing. The Limo Driver

hops out, and Kenny gets in. Bobby stands there outside for

a beat. He tries to hide how touched he is, but can't

completely.

KENNY:

What's the matter with you? Forget how

to open a car door?

INT. BOBBY'S LIMO - NIGHT

Bobby recovers, opens his own door, gets in the front seat

next to Kenny.

KENNY:

Jesus, you rich people.

Kenny starts up the engine. Bobby smiles a twisted smile.

As the car pulls away, the two men sit in silence, neither

willing to admit how glad the other is there.

EXT. PENNSYLVANIA AVE. - NIGHT

The limo wheels out into the street, carrying the two friends

into the darkness.

INT. BOBBY'S LIMO - NIGHT

Bobby stares out the window at the passing city, the lights

the lives behind those windows. As the car drives on and on,

the tension returns. Bobby feels the weight of all those

lives. On him. A long beat. He gazes at Kenny, the only

man he could ever admit this to:

BOBBY:

I don't know if I can do this.

Kenny glances over at him. Bobby stares back.

KENNY:

There's nobody else I'd rather have

going in there.

Bobby looks at him.

KENNY (CONT'D)

Nobody else I'd trust Helen and the

kids' lives to.

Kenny means it. He looks away. Bobby shifts, awkward.

BOBBY:

Take a left.

Kenny looks him. This isn't the way to the Justice

Department. But he complies.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

We gave so much to get here. I don't

know. Sometimes I think what the hell

did we do it for?

KENNY:

Because we knew we could do a better job

than everyone else.

And Bobby, in the silence and closeness of the car, turns on

Kenny - anguished, knowing his life is at its climax.

BOBBY:

You know... I hate being called the

brilliant one. The ruthless one. They

guy who does the dirty work. The one

everybody's afraid of.

Kenny looks to him, moved, not knowing what to say.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

I hate it. I'm not smart, you know.

And I'm not so ruthless.

He looks to Kenny, searching his face, then away,

embarrassed.

KENNY:

You're right about the smart part, but

ruthless, well...

That breaks the tension as they arrive at the scene:

THROUGH THE WINDOW

Appears the grim, square lines of the SOVIET EMBASSY. Police

cars line the streets outside it. All the windows are dark.

A cordon of KGB GUARDS in plainclothes stand by the gated

entrance. On the opposite side of the street lounge two

dozen WASHINGTON D.C. POLICE.

RESUME:

Kenny gives Bobby a look. Bobby rolls down his window.

BOBBY:

Slow down. Smell that?

KENNY:

Smoke.

BOBBY:

Just wanted to see for myself.

(beat)

They're burning their documents.

The final duty of an embassy before war...

BOBBY (CONT'D)

They think we're going to war. G-d help

us, Ken.

EXT. SOVIET EMBASSY - NIGHT

THE CAMERA lifts away from the limo, turning toward the

Embassy, past the Guards, past the brass plate which reads

EMBASSY OF THE UNITED SOVIET SOCIALIST REPUBLICS, up and up

to the roof where black, reeking SMOKE billows from all of

the Embassy's several chimneys.

The CAMERA races into it. It engulfs us all.

EXT. JUSTICE DEPARTMENT - NIGHT

Kenny squeals the limo up to the curb in front of the Justice

Department. The doors fly open, and Kenny and Bobby jump

out, head up the steps to the building.

INT. HALL OUTSIDE BOBBY'S OFFICE - NIGHT

Bobby's STAFFERS greet them as they stride down the hall,

Staffer #1 taking Bobby's coat.

STAFFER #1

Sir, Ambassador Dobrynin is already

here. We have him waiting in your

office.

They reach the double oak doors to Bobby's suite and stop.

Bobby faces Kenny.

KENNY:

I'll whistle up some luck for you.

And before Kenny's eyes, all of Bobby's doubt vanishes. In

its place, a severe confidence. A grandeur Kenny has never

seen.

It makes Kenny pause. He beholds his best friend become a

man of the ages. And then Bobby SMOOTHLY opens the door.

INT. BOBBY'S WAITING ROOM - NIGHT

And a DOOR SHUTS OC like a threshold of history. HOLD ON

Bobby's waiting room. Silent. Cavernous. Dim. Plush

carpet. Heavy drapes framing dark windows. And abandoned

secretary's desk. A row of sofas and chairs on either side

of the room. Two doorways, one at either end of the room.

A WOMAN sits in one of the chairs for visitors. Dressed in

gray. Prim. But beautiful. A secretary of some sort.

One of the double doors to the hall swings silently open.

Kenny glides in. He sees the other door shut at the far end

of the room. Kenny crashes in one of the chairs to wait.

HOLD ON THE SCENE, motionless, silent.

Kenny WHISTLES two notes. Stops. And then he begins to

WHISTLE the Irish tune, O'Donnell Aboo. He gets a bar into

it -- and there's a polite, soft COUGH.

Kenny stops. Then notices the Woman in gray across the room.

He didn't see her. It's dim over there. She looks at him,

expressionless.

The CAMERA FINDS: a pin on her lapel. A RED HAMMER AND

SICKLE.

Kenny reacts. Dobrynin's assistant? His opposite number? A

friend? Or more than a friend?

Here is the face of the enemy. Not a smile between them.

Kenny resumes his ease. And begins to WHISTLE again.

The haunting Irish song echoes in the vaulted ceiling,

filling the dim room. Strange, sad, beautiful. The woman

listens. And her face begins to soften.

Kenny stares at the dark, lonely windows, his SONG striving

to fill the empty room.

Kenny sinks deeper in the chair, his tune all-consuming...

and the Woman's voice breaks in. Kenny stops, looks over.

Her voice is tremulous and beautiful. Just a snatch of some

song in Russian. She stops, awkward.

Kenny stares. The Woman stares back. No smiles. But in

their eyes, they each see the other's fear, the other's

beauty, the other's humanity.

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